The Morning Before
by hushedgreylily
Summary: How two quite different memories reach the same conclusion. H/N romance, with quite a bit of smut for good measure. Oneshot.


**THE MORNING BEFORE**

 **Because I'll never get over them. A typical 'morning after' fic because there'll never be enough Harry and Nikki ones.**

 **Literally NO spoilers. On the timeline I'd maybe put this sometime late series 13/early series 14 (pre-Bloodlines). The good old days.**

 **Trying something new here, actually. The idea that two people can remember the same event quite differently. Hope it's worked here.**

 _Harry:_

He wakes up, blonde hair spanning on the pillow in front of him from the back of a head. He knows who that hair belongs to, where he is, he recognises the room, and his head isn't throbbing with the start of a hangover as it usually seems to when he wakes up in a new bed.

He always thought (hoped, maybe, that he'd find himself in this position) that he'd panic when he woke up next to her, about everything that was going to change, everything she might regret, the biggest risk he'd ever taken. But he feels a strange sense of peace descend over him. Because last night wasn't last night, it was this morning, he can tell that it's still the same day from the dim twilight descending behind her bedroom curtains, and he's pretty sure they'd both still been capable of making grown up decisions, despite sleep deprivation. Somehow, like he'd never imagined they would, they'd fallen together with an ease he hadn't thought they were capable of.

He reaches out, his fingers making contact with the silky white skin of her back.

* * *

 _(previously)_

When there'd finally been a man in handcuffs, in the capable firm grip of DI Hendricks, it felt like he could finally fill his lungs again, really breathe. The police had only been just in time, and there'd been that now handcuffed man with a pistol to Nikki's head, demanding he be given back his three children that had been seized by the social, and allowed to leave the country, because just because he'd killed three little girls on the way home from school didn't mean he'd hurt his own daughter, and he was sure Harry could do all of that, really.

They'd taken it upon themselves to investigate a scene they'd found one of the bodies at again, telling no one, and for once it had backfired. Because just a voicemail message left for Leo didn't mean anyone was going to come looking for them, and maybe they should have realised by now that the police did try to protect them. And Nikki had been knelt there, silent tears tracking down her cheeks, and she'd suddenly looked **smaller** than she ever had before.

She hadn't stopped looking at him, and in those moments, he'd somehow wished she wouldn't, because the whole thing was so much more real when he could see the terror in her eyes, and somehow the whole thing was his fault, and he hadn't been everything he needed to be for her…

Turns out sometimes Leo thinks they've made stupid decisions as well, and the police had appeared just as he heard the spine chilling click of a safety catch.

After hours of statements and waiting, still shocked, in the cold waiting room of the police station, beside Nikki in some sort of solemn companionable silence, he finally found Leo shaking his head one final and exasperated time at the pair of them, and telling him he didn't want to see either of them for at least 36 hours.

He'd driven Nikki home, she'd dropped her car off for an MOT and service a lifetime ago, before a day's work had turned to fear and lives flashing before their eyes, and moments of **there was never enough time.** She gave him the first sign that she could bounce back from this as he pulled up outside her flat, with a half-smile and "you wanna come in for a cup of tea?" in an almost frightened sounding voice.

Anyone else, and he would have looked pointedly at his watch, as if to reinforce the point that it was 3.17 in the morning, but it was Nikki, and he hadn't seen her smile since before there'd been a pistol touching her temple, and so he smiled and switched off the engine.

She poured two generous measures of Scotch whiskey, and he didn't have the heart to refuse it, so he took a long sip, the burning feeling somewhat out of place as the dim half-light of morning crept through the slats in her kitchen blind.

She sunk into the chair opposite him, staring down at her own crystal glass, but not touching it. She was slightly paler, still, and there was something distant in her eyes.

"It's alright, Nikki." He whispered, and covered the hand around her glass with his own. "You're going to be alright."

When she looked up at him, there were tears in her eyes.

"There… there was a gun to my head, Harry, and I was so scared…" she looked down at their hands for a moment, and laced her fingers through his before looking back up at him, her eyes locking with his. "there was a gun to my head, and all I could think about was you…"

Her breath visibly hitched as her eyes darted down to his lips. Her hand still in his, she stood up, guiding him with her. He moved quickly around the table, her eyes kept darting to his mouth, and he didn't think twice before crashing his mouth against hers.

She tasted of whiskey, of fear and of lost opportunities, and she melded against him, every curve and crevice of her body suddenly against every line of his. He found one of her hands curling in the hair at the back of his neck, and the other sliding between them, fingers tracing and fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Suddenly she wasn't close enough, there were too many layers of fabric between them.

They were stumbling down the corridor before he knew it, and he wasn't sure when she'd undone his trousers, but suddenly they were slipping down his legs and he was stepping out of them, giving her the opportunity to pull her shirt over her head and push her jeans over her hips, backing towards her bed. He pushed her gently, and she landed among the pillows, the look on her face not quite readable.

All of a sudden, she was laid on the bed in front of him, in nothing but blue lace, and he couldn't read the expression on her face.

"You sure?" he breathed, surprised at the clarity in his own voice, when he was sure none of the blood in his body was directed at his brain.

"Shut up." She hissed, tugging him down towards her, pushing his boxers roughly over his hips and taking him in her hands as she brought him down.

* * *

 _Nikki:_

The first thing she notices as she slowly slips back into the land of the living are fingertips tracing infinite patterns on her skin at the small of her back, and, maybe strangely, all that gives her is a tiny half smile, a lazy sigh. His fingers, from hands she'd always thought of as soft, are coarser and larger than she'd imagined, braising against her skin in a way that she's sure makes her heart beat a little faster.

Sighing contentedly, she rolls slightly towards him, and their eyes connect. He looks half apprehensive, but his fingers keep lazily dancing, this time on her hip bone, and with every movement they burn slightly more.

"Morning." She breathes, and a corner of his mouth turns up in a slight smile.

"Morning."

As if uncontrollably, his eyes flicker down to her mouth, only for a second, but when his eyes meet hers again she nods, almost imperceptibly. He seems hesitant, if only for a moment, as if judging whether or not he's hallucinating. When she starts to lean towards him slightly she catches his smile widening seconds before his lips brush lazily against hers.

The sudden pressure of his body against hers reminds her that they're both naked, and of all the feelings, the electric currents, that zipped through her the night before.

She opens her mouth, and her hands find his hips, pulling them against hers.

* * *

 _(previously)_

When he'd pulled up outside her flat, he'd stopped the engine, a sigh catching in the silence between them. She'd half raised an eyebrow and looked at him.

"You fancy a drink?" she'd chuckled somewhat bitterly, and given him a small smile, almost nervous. Because something was burning inside her, as if everything was changing.

His smile was almost grateful, and he opened the car door.

She poured him some of her best Scotch, and a gin and very little tonic for herself, which she did little more than swill in the glass. He took his drink and took one side of her kitchen table, and with a sigh and a half smile she sat opposite him.

Merely seconds after she'd sat down, he downed his drink and one of his hands came over hers on the table. She looked up at him, something catching in her throat.

"It's gonna be alright, Nikki. We're gonna be alright." It probably shouldn't've sounded so much like a question.

She took a deep breath, because if she didn't talk about it now, she was never going to talk about it.

"There was a gun to my head, Harry." He visibly flinched at the words, like the memory was still an open wound. "There was a gun to my head… and I was so scared…" she threaded her fingers through his, an almost alien sense of confidence and decision settling inside her. "… and there you were…"

He frowned slightly, like she wasn't making a lot of sense. Which she probably wasn't. She gave him a tiny smile, swallowing the tears that were threatening to rise, and pulled his hand slightly towards her, glancing down at his lips for a second. When she met his eyes again, they were a fraction darker, a fraction wider, and in that moment she had no doubt he was on the same page she was. And for once in their lives there wasn't enough time to keep messing around anymore. As she started to stand he was up in a flash, and suddenly in front of her, hardly an inch away.

He seemed hesitant for a moment, his own eyes darting down to her lips, but as her other hand found its way to rest on his waistline, he clumsily leant towards her, mouth mashing against hers with all the grace of a first kiss. She found herself pressed against him, feeling every indentation of his body, and she looped her arms around his neck as he started tugging up her shirt. After the initial collision, his mouth and tongue were soft and almost reverent on hers, and suddenly all she wanted to do was start on his buttons, and start leading him out of the kitchen.

She led him down the corridor, and somehow they were shedding clothes at every available opportunity without hardly breaking contact, and he tasted of the whiskey he'd just finished, a world she hadn't even begun to explore yet and a distant memory of a pub somewhere in the rain. As they pushed their way through her bedroom door, she giggled slightly as his trousers fell around his ankles, and all he could do was grunt slightly and kick them to the side as she pulled her camisole over her head, leaving her in nothing but a blue lace bra, her knickers probably caught up in a discarded pair of jeans somewhere. She felt her bed against her calves and as he stepped towards her, in nothing but a pair of black boxers, fell back against it, sinking into the mattress, staring up at him.

He looked down at her, and for a moment, if she didn't know better, she'd have thought she'd seen fear.

"You sure about this, Nikki?" he whispered, hovering over her. "There's no going back."

She gave him all of a tiny smile that she could muster, her heart thumping almost audibly, a fire burning through her body, longing for contact again. She nodded, ever so slightly. "Please." She breathed, and it came out sounding almost like she was begging. He grinned as he braced himself around her head, the whole of his body against hers as she slid his boxers away.

As his mouth found hers again she stroked him lightly, her fingers dancing, almost fairy like, where he wanted her most. He gave a tiny involuntary thrust of his hips towards her, and she guided him gently to where she most needed him, poising him at her entrance, aching with the promise of that inside of her.

He kissed her neck as he drove into her, and she lost coherent thought for a moment, words like hard and deep and oh god, more please running through her brain, but only coming out in a tiny mewl against the top of his head. He licked his way up to a spot just behind her ear as her hips starting bucking involuntarily against his, and she found suddenly fingers laced through her own.

And all of a sudden he was rolling them over, and as she leant over him he looked up into her face with something quite new in his eyes, both slightly daunting and all she'd been missing her whole life at the same time. Leaning towards him and rocking her hips, suddenly slowly, she felt his hands around her hips, his fingers kneading into the skin.

"Oh God, Nikki…" he hissed into the loaded silence around them, tilting his head back slightly and closing his eyes. Rocking slowly, she slid fingers between her legs, just reaching the desired location when she felt a hand around her wrist, pulling it away.

"Mine." He half growled, and as his fingers found her clit and started rubbing, and she felt a tongue around her left nipple, she realised she wasn't going to need long, not tonight. She kept rocking her hips into his, countering his thrusts, and suddenly she was getting faster and out of control and it was like she was teetering on the edge, breathing a second thought, and his fingers were wicked between her legs, and she couldn't even think about what he was doing with his mouth, for fear of going mad…

She collapsed heavily onto his shoulder as she came, gasping and gulping for air, still gently rocking.

"Fuck." She hissed against his skin, supporting herself either side of his shoulders as he drove hard up into her, reaching right to the hilt with every movement.

He came crashing inside her seconds later, with a number of hideous expletives and a low guttural moan, before collapsing back against the pillows, holding her against him, breathing heavily. She slowly rolled to his side, folding an arm across his chest.

"Shit, we didn't…" he murmured as he gained enough breath to form words again. She gave a small smile and pressed her lips against the crown of his shoulder.

"I've got it covered." She breathed. "Nothing to worry about."

"S'good." He murmured, laying a hand over her arm. "Sleep."

She let her lips brush against his skin once more before closing her eyes. As she drifts off to sleep, she smiles to herself. It was both nothing like she expected, nothing conventional, and so very _them_ at the same time. And for the first time, since she thought her life was about to meet its sudden and untimely end, she feels free.

 **FINIS**

 **That's a wrap! Hope the jumping around the timeline and the perspectives wasn't confusing! For clarification, I've added the little 'previously's on the titular 'morning before', and two separate and different memories of the same event.**

 **Would love to hear what you think – even a few words – in a nice little review!**


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